Showing posts with label getting help. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting help. Show all posts
Victim or Victorious
Chrissie
As the weekend is winding down I find my mood also winding down. Mike was actually able to take two days off and it has been heaven having him home with me. But Monday morning will inevitably come and just that thought sends me into a panic. I am terrified at the mere thought of being alone. I get a knot in my stomach and fear so intense that I want to throw up. Friday, I begged (yes, literally) him not to go to work. I'm wretched for doing so because he then, full of guilt, had to leave me a sobbing mess in our living room.

We went to my mom and dad's today and I found myself wishing we could just stay there. And maybe tomorrow I will take the two younger ones over there to hang out during the day. For some reason I am less "lonely" there even though there will be no one home. It somehow feels safer.

What is my deal? I told Mike tonight that I really wish I knew why this was happening. I bonded with Kinley almost instantly when we were in the hospital (much sooner than my other two) and for the first two weeks I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Now, when I look at her, I want to run. I feel utterly empty.

Mike, being the amazing husband that he is told me that I can't ask questions like why it's happening because it just is. It's just so frustrating to feel so incredibly lost and hopeless. I am a person who is normally IN LOVE with my life. And it's killing me to not be able to feel that right now. It's as if something vital in me died and is gone forever. And I am paralyzed. I have no idea what to do now.

There will undoubtedly be someone reading this who doesn't understand at all. And that's okay. I am blogging about this because it's therapeutic for me and if I can help even one other mommy to know that she's not alone in feeling this way, then it wouldn't have been for nothing that I suffered.

While standing at my kitchen sink today, I vowed to myself that I would do at least two things every single day that make me feel normal, whether it's fixing my hair or makeup, or going for a walk outside. I will watch funny movies and tv shows and laugh as much as possible. I will pray and I will sing and I will continually give thanks. I will fight and fight and fight some more. And I will win.


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The Problem With Reaching Out? Shoulder Squeezes.
Chrissie
So, yeah, my last post was probably a little scary. It might be slightly obvious that I'm in a dark place right now. It shouldn't surprise me because I suffered with postpartum depression after Reagan and Caleb also. Perhaps not quite to this degree. I also don't normally discuss the fact that I feel depressed much of the time or that I also suffered with antepartum depression with all three of my children. It has never felt like something I wanted to "burden" others with. The past couple of days, however, have been excruciatingly frightening. And perhaps it's because there are three kids now, two of them being babies. I felt it was crucial for me to swallow my pride, reach out, and *gulp* ask for help.

So, with tears streaming down my face, a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my hands sweating and shaking I called Kaiser and said the words "postpartum depression" to the person on the other end of the line. The barrage of questions that ensued caused me to wonder whether I had done the right thing. I began to panic that these people were going to think I was a danger to myself or my babies and come take them or me away. I found myself answering their questions very carefully but simultaneously wondering if I was a danger to myself or my babies. Of course not! But? It was then that I realized that making the call was a very important step for me to have taken.

My day continued to be horrible and in desperation I reached out to the one person I believed would be understanding; my husband. I got no response over and over for a few hours. Later in the evening, I poured my heart out to him and my mother to ask for support and understanding. I think I got a little less than I was expecting. Questions about why I was feeling bad, what was making me feel this way, and a whole lot of silence. And then, this morning, when I could have used a hug more than anything in the entire world, I got a shoulder squeeze before he headed off to work. I'm here to tell you that a shoulder squeeze DOES NOT sustain you through a panic attack at the realization that you are once again alone with the babies when you're in the midst of a deep and dark depression.

Somehow I have managed to crawl halfway out of the hole this morning and function as a fraction of my former self but I feel "on the brink". My appointment is in 2 1/2 hours and while I'm happy to have my mom available and willing to watch my kids for me so that I can go, I dread the confrontation with her. I pray there isn't one but my mental health has always been a very touchy subject in my family. It is the main reason for my hesitation to reach out for help in the first place. The history there is very old but still very raw.

I usually pride myself on being courageous and strong and while I know with my head that taking this step IS courageous, I still feel weak and a very real sense that I have somehow let my family down by admitting that I might need help getting through it this time. I looked at my sweet baby sleeping in my husband's arms last night and once again the tears began flowing. She looked so innocent and perfect and the only words I could form were, "Too bad she has such a crappy Mommy." That's not true, though. I know it's not. It's because I love my babies so much that I want to feel better. And it is for my babies that I will give myself the hug I so desperately need and drag myself through the doors of that doctor's office this afternoon.

I am reminded of a story I used to hear when I was in Mary Kay about the donkey in the hole (because I feel like I am in a hole of sorts as well). Like the donkey, I am going to shake this off and step up until I am out of this hole. I am determined to find my joy once again. **If you don't know the story, you can read it here: The Donkey Story.**


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Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy....and Other Lies
Chrissie
When someone commits suicide, why do the people closest to them always say the dumbest thing, "I should have seen the signs."? Of course they saw them; they absolutely knew the person was depressed. The truth is that it's inconvenient and disruptive to one's own schedule to do anything about it. I mean, someone might have to put themselves "out there" emotionally and make themselves available to someone who is hurting. Heaven forbid someone does something they don't want to do or feels uncomfortable with.

Then there are the people who "don't believe in depression". "You should just be happy." Oh yeah, why didn't I think of that? It's a good thing that I'm this amazingly "all together" person who never suffers from postpartum depression, who never feels completely defeated by a high-strung 7-year old with behavioral issues and low self-esteem, a 1 1/2 year old hell-bent on throwing impressive tantrums, and a newborn who does nothing more than eat, sleep, scream, and shit. It's a good thing I thrive on little adult interaction 6 out of 7 days a week. It's a good thing I have no dreams, skill, or talent so that I'm not worried about them being totally wasted while my brain rots on washing laundry and barely keeping up with cleaning a house that everyone else is intent on keeping messy and dirty. It's all good because if I was suffering from postpartum depression and needed to make an appointment to speak with a professional, I would have to go with two screaming babies in tow.

The reason: because it's simply inconvenient for me to be unable to deal with life right now. After sacrificing my body for 9 months for an unplanned, less than desirable pregnancy and almost dying for the second time after delivery (nope, not exaggerating); after sacrificing my dreams for, yet another, indeterminable period of time, it is just simply not acceptable for me to NEED anything in return. Why should I have a problem with any of this anyway? I'm a woman, this is just what we do, and happily. Damnit, I should know my place. It's supposed to be buckets of sunshine to be a mother and a housewife. TO HELL WITH AMBITION! It's inconvenient.

So, as to not inconvenience anyone, I will strive and struggle and ultimately "deal" in silence with the thoughts that plague me until this 4th trimester is over just like I have in the past. I will pretend that life is all bunnies and rainbows and forget that my life has been disrupted, much less my schedule. My mantra shall be, "There's no such thing as hormones. There's no such thing as hormones."


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